


the power to charm

by johnconstantine



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 3x04, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Episode Tag, F/M, Not Beta Read, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnconstantine/pseuds/johnconstantine
Summary: The story of how Hermione got the hickey on the side of her neck at the Ascension party.





	the power to charm

He spots Hermione dancing in a shrouded corner of the room by herself. But it's not dancing, not really. She swaying from side-to-side like she's at some hippie concert.

_Go with the flow._

Except Hermione has always been about conforming, being the good Catholic school girl who doesn't give into temptation. Because that would be unholy.

Well, right now, she looks like sin personified. Or maybe that's just the devil inside of him speaking, aching to defile something so pure, so utterly pristine. That's her appeal. And Hermione so far has done a good job of giving him enough masturbation fodder for stretched out late nights, and at the same time providing him with nothing tangible at all.

Damn it, he's FP Jones. His power lies in charming every girl at Riverdale High to buckle at the knees at his sight. Why do his efforts ricochet off her?

It only makes him grow more restless, and pervertedly determined to prove her wrong.

He walks over to her, mostly in a straight line — looking around him the drugs may have worn off on him faster than the others — and stops right in front of her. She halts in her movement and looks up at him with doe eyes. There's a moment of  _gazing —_  surveying each other — before FP takes a few steps forward, effectively backing Hermione against the wall.

She chuckles awkwardly, and he can see a blush creeping up her neck. "What are you doing, FP?" 

Her expression looks a bit dopey in this instant, but in a cute way, and she doesn't push him away. Progress.

FP cocks his eyebrows and leans down. Their faces are almost touching, foreheads barely grazing each other.

"Expediting the inevitable."

It comes out more sweet than cocky.

"No, no..." she says, but it's feeble, the vowels weakly fading out at the end.

"Come on, Hermione. _Marty?_ But I'm denied a taste, time after time?"

When she doesn't respond in any way, he pushes his luck by attempting skin contact, and nuzzles his face into her neck. She smells of clean sheets and wisteria.

He hears her gasp audibly, her chest rising and falling against his. He smiles around the juncture between her jaw and neck; how could he not? He has her right where he's wanted her for so long now.

He raises his head, ocean blue eyes staring into near black ones, and there's something calm about the storm in her eyes. 

"If you tell anyone..." she trails off, her voice tremulous. 

Suddenly the air around them thickens.

"I won't," he promises. He'd love to, but experiencing a part of Hermione has never been about conquest, or adding another notch in his belt. There's curiosity, the desire to possess something you can never have, and another feeling he can't quite place. But Hermione is so much more than just a piece of ass to him.

He kisses her, her soft, pouty lips melting against his, and it feels even better than in his fantasies. He presses his body slightly harder against hers, just so that he won't forget the curves of her body when he wants to recall them days, weeks, years from now on. She parts her lips to let out a moan, and he seizes the chance to dart his tongue into her mouth. Somehow, it's sensual enough to satisfy his other urges. When they part, all breathless, FP grins at her wickedly.

She grins back at him, but not as intensely.

"Satisfied now?" she teases.

He shrugs. "Almost," he says and practically attacks her neck, his hands resting on her waist, fingers digging lightly into the skin beneath her costume.

"What are you doing, FP?" Hermione asks dreamily. Or at least that's how he would describe the tone of her voice.

Instead of responding, he continues to suck and lick and nibble at her neck, resolute to leave an undeniably vast mark on her. His parting gift.

Marty will think that Fred gave it to her, and Fred will think that Marty gave it to her. 

FP, however, is always going to know the truth, the memories of this night flashing back in his mind every time he sees the hickey on her until it fades away, and long after.

For a short moment in time, Hermione is his, and nobody else's.


End file.
